Explains the accent. { Will sometimes focuses on details that are not prevalent. He had to get rid of his Southern accent to blend in, and now he's lost the thickness of what it had once been. Then again, whatever evolving self he came from, was it ever him? He still takes parts from places and people he's been around. The thoughts he can't bring to the surface. Too close. He places his hands into the pockets of his jacket. An extra layer, extra protection.

His lips do twitch, somewhat equally amused in his own quiet manner. }

You see ghosts? { It's slightly funny. But also, he's not sure if he believes it quite yet. Abigail was in his head in Europe. He doesn't want to try and explain it. } I thought I was done with the art of fuckery. Seems it's not done with us. I'm assuming others were dragged here.

{ — Who died. Or who were condemned. He's never had the most positive outlook, his reality in constant conflict. There's a rise to his shoulders that gives to a subtle shrug as he adjusts his posture. }

We could also be given another chance, regardless if we deserve it or not. Trials, one might say. The Labors of Hercules.